The Pon T'Keshtan

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN:

Although Nyota's expressions, words and touch transmitted her profound desire for him, she was considerate enough, in the wake of his confusion and disconnection after the Katau Fa'ark, not to press for intimate attention or overt displays of affection. She was content to dine with him, gazing at him and the Crickian panels lovingly, while he attempted to bridge the obvious gaps in his memory with conversation that skimmed the surface of the deep pond of their relationship like a polished stone.

She described their shore leave on Jagusch-McGillis: how he had fought for the deliverance and security of Pa'shu, his discovery of the bolt of Vulcan fabric - which was sitting on the floor of his closet - and his purchase of the Crickian panels. The only evidence of their day of shore leave that resonated at all with him was the tiny compass. When Nyota reached inside her uniform and extracted it for him to see, he seemed to recognize it immediately. He put the pad of his index finger against its bezel and recalled himself saying, "Take care not to lose it," when he presented it to her... although the rest of the memories surrounding the incident were gone. It was as though that moment had crystallized in his mind and cemented itself there, as did other memories of his interactions with her, but the conversations and actions that connected those moments together were no longer accessible to him; like points of starlight hung in the blackness of space. This point was a memory, that point was a memory, but everything around them was an empty, hollow vacuum.

Although he was grateful she shared her recollections with him, they left him more disoriented, as though the Spock from her story was from a different life, a different time-line, a different reality.

He vividly remembered the seamless synchronization of their intellects and spiritual essences, and the radiant, healing coolness of her presence within his mind from the night before, and found it difficult to reconcile with his current sense of detachment from her. A part of him wanted to draw her close, join with her and share everything he was, while another part held her at bay, fearing he would somehow harm her, or she would harm him, if he drew too close. The uncertainty was distracting and debilitating. He had never experienced anything like this, and had no idea how to combat it, or even define it. He attempted several times to broach the subject, but stopped before the words escaped him. A man of exactitude, he didn't know how to say what he wanted to say, and so he said nothing at all.

When they finished eating, Nyota disposed of their bowls and utensils in the in-wall replicator. She stood at the head of the Crickian panels, with Spock standing across from her at their foot, and gave him a long appraising look. "Still a little out of sorts after the Katau Fa'ark?" she asked him gently.

"Yes," he admitted wearily, with perhaps a little dread.

"You still have an hour or so before you go to see Dr. Surrey. I could give you a massage to help you unwind."

Spock tilted his head and gave her his version of a conspiratorial smile from under his upswept eyebrows. "Although my memory may be somewhat suspect, k'diwa, I do seem to recall that the majority of your massages did not leave me in a state of relaxation. Quite the contrary, they served to arouse me."

Nyota grinned. "Yes, well... Eventually, you fell asleep." She stepped around the panels and joined him, slipping her arm around his waist, letting the heat from his body permeate hers. Looking into his eyes, she suggested softly, "Why don't you try to meditate for a while then?"

He took a deep breath and held it for a moment before answering, "Perhaps I will."

"Good." Nyota rubbed his back gently and gave him a little reassuring hug. "If you need me, I'll be on the bridge for the rest of my shift. I'm off at seventeen-hundred, and after that I'll be in my quarters." She was leaving it up to him whether he would join her that evening or not. Stooping low, she carefully folded and gathered up the panels and hugged them against her chest with both arms.

Spock escorted her to the door, and let her smile against his cheek and press a light kiss to his lips before she left. After she was gone, he stood where he was for several seconds, unsure of what he wanted to do next. In his current state of detachment and uncertainty, meditation was called for, but he had been deliberately noncommittal to Nyota about it. He had attempted to meditate in the Medical Bay, but had been unable to reach the level of calm necessary to achieve s'thaupi.(1) Thoughts and questions tugged at his injured brain, demanding answers he couldn't give. He felt a sense of urgency, as though he couldn't do or think about anything else until his mind was more settled. He knew he needed to meditate, but he couldn't: it was a circular and self-defeating thought pattern.

There was only one answer to the dilemma. If his confusion and memory loss were due to the shariv t'kae, then he needed to ascertain, as quickly as possible, what had prompted it. Once he knew what incited the storm, he could better address it and its aftermath.

Spock went to his workstation and activated the computer. He bypassed the screen displaying the messages left for him, and began searching for any mention of him in the ship's records. Firewalls and labyrinthine encryptions protected access to much of the material, especially the captain's logs and the medical database, but Spock's rank provided him with override codes lesser officers on the ship were denied. And he was careful to look only into records which pertained directly to him, which, by Starfleet regulation, he was permitted to do - within specific parameters. There were, for example, portions of his medical chart not readily viewable to him; Dr. Surrey's detailed psychiatric notes on his case, for instance. He had more than enough technical skill to violate the seal on those records if he wanted to, and then cover up his entry so no one would be the wiser, but - he paused, weighing the legal, ethical, professional, and personal consequences of such a breach. Deciding to leave the seal unbroken on those entries, Spock plunged through the other data collected on him. His personal journals had mentioned meetings held in Medical Conference Room One by Dr. McCoy, Dr. Surrey and others regarding his status, so he focused his preliminary search for any mention of those meetings.


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The Fonn Vuhlkansu delegation met with Sarek in the largest of the personal quarters provided for them; S'Risha, Enteria, and T'Stala, who wore their MAGGIe's on their swollen bellies, attended the meeting despite McCoy's objections. Their presence was not vital; the charter the group planned to present at the Transitional Council meeting had already been hammered out, and this meeting was a mere formality intended to finalize the document with their biological signatures before its publication. Regardless, the pregnant women attended to show their support and determination to assist the group with its goals.

The room was cramped, but no one complained or openly exhibited discomfort. When S'Risha and the other pregnant women entered, her bondmate T'Kela immediately offered her chair to her, while two of the males vacated their seats for T'Stala and Enteria. This wasn't out of a sense of antiquated or perfunctory chivalry; Vulcan women were revered as the progenitors of their race. In the face of extinction, pregnant females represented the best hope for their species. Those in the room were honored by their presence.

The only one missing from the entourage was Tasmeen. She had been asked to relocate Pa'shu and her cubs from Dr. Surrey's private suite, to Spock's suit, and had applied herself to her task with diligence and enthusiasm, proving herself a well-organized, heedful, and resourceful Vulcan child.

Once S'Risha was settled, and T'Kela sat on the floor near her feet, T'Kela asked quietly, "Are you comfortable, ashalik?"(2)

"The device functions as designed," S'Risha answered, "but with it comes the altogether odd sensation of... disengagement. It feels similar to being half in and half out of water; part of me is buoyant, part is not, and when I move, I have to wait for the buoyant part to catch up with the weighted part."

"But there is no pain or other discomfort?"

"No. None."

"If we may begin," Sarek said to general nods of assent as he stepped into the middle of the room. "The first portion of our charter to the Transitional Council speaks to the reinstatement of citizenship for the Fonn Vuhlkansu delegation. Are we in agreement that in order for us to progress as an active and integral part of the New Vulcan legislature, we must set aside our previous renunciations and request our citizenship be fully reestablished?"

"As long as there are no other stipulations or qualifications associated with the reinstatement," Gilgreni said from behind T'Stala's chair.

"'Unqualified reinstatement of full citizenship' would be the preferred terminology, then?" Sarek suggested, and again, everyone was in agreement with him. He then went through the rest of the delegation's expectations, goals and plans, making subtle but significant changes to the verbiage and the order of the items listed where needed.

Sarek saved the altered version into a PADD and passed it around the room for the delegates' approval and final signature. As each member finished reading this final draft, they indicated approval of it by recording their fingerprints and bio-signatures on the PADD's screen.

As Sarek slipped the PADD into a tooled faux-leather courier pouch, he said, "Thank you, delegates, for your counsel, encouragement, and cooperation with this project. Let us hope our efforts will be rewarded: that the Fonn Vuhlkansu petition for inclusion will be granted, that the reproductive rights of the male population of New Vulcan will be reinstated, and the former Ministers of the Transitional Council who have not yet resigned will be removed from office."

Silent nods once more answered him.


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Aboard the Haulat, Sa'aat cocked his head with curiosity when a private transmission came through the comm-panel on his bridge from the Enterprise. He activated the two-way communications view screen and was even more curious to see Spock's face appear.

"Spahk-kam. Nam-tor t'gol'nev lau nash-veh hah?" he asked.

Spock glanced away for a moment, as though undecided, then returned his gaze to the view screen, looking determined. "Dva-tor ni nash-veh hah, osu. Stariben k'ish-veh pa Uzh T'Kashi lau nash-veh hah?"

"U'istau ish-veh."(3)


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Spock rang the door chime to his father's quarters even though he was aware Sarek was not there. He had checked his father's status earlier and knew Sarek was meeting with the Fonn Vuhlkansu delegates. Nevertheless, Spock felt he should exhibit common courtesies before entering the room, as his mother's katra resided there. When the door slipped open with a quiet shwish, he found the room unlit and comfortably warm by Vulcan standards.

Careful not to disturb anything, Spock searched the room with his eyes until he located the crystal vre'katra. It was perched on a dresser and surrounded by an incense burner, a meditation lamp, several pieces of fresh fruit and a tiny wreath of desert flowers, undoubtedly a gift brought to Sarek by Tasmeen from the Nevada colony. Spock recognized the altar cloth under the vre'katra as one of his mother's own scarves.

"Ko-mehk," Spock whispered to the stylized face on the urn. (4)


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"Does any of this seem familiar to you, Mister Spock?" Dr. Surrey asked when Spock arrived in his office later that afternoon. The Vulcan had donned polished boots and his Science Blues, and had meticulously groomed himself since Dr. Surrey had last seen him. He's presenting himself as orderly and ready for duty, the doctor understood.

Spock picked a throw pillow up off the floor, smoothed its surface, and placed it on the couch. "The disarray strikes a chord of recollection, but otherwise, no."

"Well, take a few minutes to orient yourself and get comfortable. We have a couple more cursory tests to finish and then we can talk if you want to."

"I would like to speak to you, Doctor, thank you," Spock said with a single bob of his head. He stepped further into the room and started to circumnavigate its cluttered space.

"Really?" Surrey did not bother hiding his pleasant astonishment. "Well, that's good to hear, Mister Spock."

On one of the shelving units, amid a jumble of miniature signage - Stop, Go Left, Hazardous Materials - was a larger one that caught Spock's eye.

A person who has not passed through the inferno of their passions
has never overcome them. (5)

He lifted it, read it at a glance and showed it to Surrey, saying, "This sounds like a Vulcan sentiment."

Surrey squinted to read it more clearly and replied, "It's actually Jung."

Spock's mouth pulled downward a fraction as his eyebrows rose briefly, expressing he was both intrigued and impressed by the information. He set the sign back and proceeded around the room, before coming to a standstill beside the shelves filled with miniature people. The Vulcan figures were still in a straight line across the front of their shelf. "Curious," he said.

"What's curious?"

"The males outnumber the females in this display."

"And that's important because...?"

"It is inaccurate."

"You set them up like that during a previous session," Dr. Surrey told him as he took a seat in the tartan plaid chair. "I interpreted the action as your attempt to make order out of chaos..."

"An interesting observation. However, it might also indicate a condition in which the masculine component of the psyche was attempting to be the most dominant."

"Yes, that's possible. Is that how you interpret it now?"

"No. It simply strikes me as imprecise."

"Imprecise in what way?"

"In current Vulcan society, females outnumber males nearly three-to-one."

"And why is the accuracy of that ratio important?"

Spock arched an eyebrow. "Accuracy in all things is important, Doctor. The fact I was blatantly inaccurate with this presentation seems to speak to a lack of precision and clarity on my part."

"Well, you weren't quite yourself."

"Evidently." Spock turned, hands clasped loosely behind his back, presenting his full chest to Surrey, raising his chin. "I am myself now, however."

He's showing me how vital he is, while at the same time daring me to disagree with him. Dr. Surrey smiled. Spock was back to his sharp-witted, challenging self it seemed. "Um... I think that's for me to decide, Mister Spock," Surrey answered.

"Of course, Doctor," Spock said, turning away. The capitulation wasn't easy for him, Surrey inferred. He accepts the fact I have the power to decide whether he's fit for duty or not, but he doesn't like it. "You have not yet formulated any opinion about my case?" Spock ventured.

He's testing, seeking. He wants a hint to my diagnosis without actually asking for it. "No, I haven't made a decision one way or the other yet."

"But you are inclined toward a decision."

Another test. "I let the evaluations speak for themselves and try not to taint the data with my personal feelings. I don't want to give someone a clean bill of health just because I like them. You understand, don't you?"

"Yes, of course I do," Spock said flatly.

"Shall we continue with the tests, then?"

"Very well."


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On the Haulat, Sionak watched Sa'aat engage the ship's long-range scanners and run several preliminary sweeps of New Vulcan's surface. They were still too far for the scans to be of much benefit, but the action was normal for Sa'aat; he typically ordered advance intelligence, and made as many precursory examinations as possible before arriving at a destination, in order to secure his safety and avoid surprises. What struck Sionak as odd, however, was the fact that, although Sa'aat had never been a verbose man, he had been far quieter since leaving the Enterprise than Sionak had ever seen him. The silence was palpable. Furthermore, Sionak felt waves of anger and grief radiating from his friend. Even the Haulat felt it; under its cloak, the emotions shimmered like fine red static along the ship's outer skin.

Sionak understood the impetus for Sa'aat's anger. Sa'aat's great affection for Sarek's hybrid son was no secret; he saw no reason to hide the fact: his feelings were genuine and honorable. Sa'aat had often described Spock as his eku-svitan t'shaukaush. (6) So when former Ministers Semuk and T'Pau used the Ek'tevan Prerogative as a ruse to get Spock under their control, and then attacked and violated him, it was logical that Sa'aat had responded to the defilement of his beloved with controlled fury. Sa'aat presented himself as a dispassionate man who was always composed; however, the fact that, after killing Semuk as sanctioned by the Begara Seven Judiciary, he had mutilated the body and delivered Semuk's severed and exsanguinated organ to T'Pau as a threat and a warning, demonstrated the depth of his rage.

Sionak and Sa'aat now traveled back to New Vulcan to confront T'Pau, the second of Spock's rapists, and the closer they got to the planet, the redder and more vivid the static on the Haulat's hide burned. Although Sionak believed Sa'aat would comport himself with dignity and control when they found the woman, he also believed that if T'Pau gave Sa'aat even the slightest reason to kill her, he would, regardless of whether he had the legal authority to do so; and her death would not be a pretty or peaceful one.

So, although Sa'aat's anger was understandable – if slightly distasteful - Sionak could not fathom his current grief. Sa'aat had rescued Spock from the effects of the shariv t'kae; why then, after emerging from Spock's mind, did he seem so cheerless and defeated, as if he had lost something? Why was he so reserved and incommunicative?

Sa'aat, without turning in his chair or facing Sionak, said, "Please remain focused on the journey and the tasks at hand."

Sionak bowed his head, embarrassed. He should have minded his own business - and known better than to muse in the close vicinity of such an accomplished Adept. "Yes, osu. Forgive my - distraction."

"We will arrive at New Vulcan in five hours, thirty-three minutes. Make sure the desert gear is ready for us before that time."

"Yes, osu."

As Sionak rose from his seat to check the gear on the lower deck, Sa'aat turned in his chair and said, "Sionak - " At the mouth of the turbolift, the guard turned to face him, and Sa'aat continued in a more moderated tone, "Do not concern yourself. Things are as they should be."

"Yes, osu."


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"That's the last of the evaluations, Mister Spock," Dr. Surrey said, collecting the diagnostic PADD from him. He entered a code into the unit to lock in the data and secure confidentiality, and then set the PADD aside. "Thank you for your cooperation."

Spock said nothing as he rose from the blue chair to stretch his legs and walk around the room again. Surrey noted he bypassed the display where the Grimhilde figure was dominant, and came to a stop near a display of desert-dwelling animals. First he aligned himself with the Vulcan people, now he's aligning himself with the desert, the landscape of his birth. He's trying to figure out if he still 'fits' among them.

Reaching among the figures, Spock drew out a small toy camel wearing a tufted halter and an ornate Tuareg fork-horn saddle (7). He studied the creature for several seconds, then carefully set it back and asked, "May we now speak, Doctor?"

"That's what I encourage most," Dr. Surrey said with a smile.

"Yes," said Spock reflectively, turning away, not showing the doctor his back, but instead shifting his body as if he were shielding his heart. He's feeling vulnerable again, but he's not backing down or getting entirely defensive, Surrey thought. "In an attempt to compensate for my current mental deficiencies, I have, as you are aware, examined my personal journals," Spock began.

"Yes, you mentioned that to me this morning."

"I had also expressed a desire to understand what may have provoked my shariv t'kae."

"Yes, I remember that, too."

"In my pursuit of answers, I accessed other data gathered over the past several months in which references to me were made."

"Oh -?" Surrey didn't like the sound of that. Considering how intelligent, curious and capable Spock was, he had expected the Vulcan to eventually do a detailed records search on himself in order to fill the holes in his memory. However, Surrey hadn't anticipated Spock would initiate the search immediately, or that he would finish it so quickly. He had underestimated the strength of Spock's desire for answers and closure, and he mentally kicked himself for his mistake.

"Taking the composite data into consideration, I have come to a conclusion about what I believe sparked the shariv t'kae. With your permission, I would like to share my observations and conclusions with you."

"I would very much like to hear that, Mister Spock. Thank you."

Spock took a position behind the blue chair, facing the doctor. He placed his hands on either side of the back of the chair, his grip relaxed. He's protecting his vital organs from me - which means he's still feeling vulnerable – but he's showing me his hands to prove he's non-combative, that he's being open and forthright, was Surrey's interpretation of this new posture.

Spock averted his eyes for a moment as he collected his thoughts, and then began, choosing his words carefully. "Among the stressors, to which I have been subjected over the past year or more, were the loss of my homeworld and my physiological connection to it."

"Yes."

"There is also an odd sense of blameworthiness; I had lived through the holocaust while billions of other Vulcans died."

"You might be experiencing what we Humans call 'survivor's guilt,' Mister Spock, and it's not an uncommon occurrence. I'd daresay that there are other Vulcans who feel the same way you do."

"Indeed they do, Doctor," Spock admitted. "It permeates the k'war'ma'khon; coiling through us like a snake. I feel my peoples' collected pain, here -" he pointed to the center of his forehead, "- and here," he pointed to his solar plexus, the core of his body. "This, along with being physically torn away from our home planet, left us, as a people, somewhat raw and... drifting. Like sea grass rent from its roots and pulled by rip tides into a churning sea. I understand I should have addressed these sensations earlier, but everything else seemed to preoccupy me at the time, my Starfleet duties, my relationship with Lieutenant Uhura, my studies, my hobbies. Even when I attempted to meditate on the subject, I found myself distracted and unable to center myself."

"We call that 'denial' or 'avoidance', and it's not uncommon. When you're faced with a drastic trauma, your brain does everything it can to try to normalize your existence - it's a coping mechanism; it keeps you from going nuts - and in the process, sometimes the routines of daily life can consume you, pulling you outside yourself, or covering up what you really feel and need to confront. When some of the trauma wears off and you're able to focus inward again, you can address the effects of the events, and start to deal with them... just like you're doing now."

Spock nodded slowly, and slipped to the front of the chair, where he sat on the edge of the cushion, his back straight, his hands folded loosely, resting against his knees. "Yes, that was my conclusion, as well, Doctor. I now understand I need to address what has happened to me: the loss of my home, the pain of my people... being forced to comply with the Ek'tevan Prerogative, the relinquishing of my Vulcan citizenship, the probability I am a father-to-be..."

"Yes."

"...And the fact that while on New Vulcan, I killed one of the plak-tau women, and was sexually assaulted by Semuk and my kinswoman, T'Pau."

Although his mouth opened, Surrey didn't ask how Spock had found the information; it was irrelevant at this juncture. He was more concerned about Spock's reaction to the discovery. He searched Spock's face for some indication of emotional upset, but the Vulcan seemed dispassionate and composed. There was no hint of fear or trauma, no disgust, no rage, no confusion, no disgrace. Vulcans were skilled in disguising those things, of course, but Surrey would have felt better if Spock had at least blinked, or squirmed or winced or... did something other than sit there with his face a perfect mask of poise and control. "That's pretty traumatic stuff, Mister Spock. It would push anybody over the edge."

"Yes, but, as distressing as those facts may have been, Doctor, there was one greater factor which ultimately lead to my shariv t'kae."

"Oh, really? What was that?"

"My mother's katra was inside of me during all of those events."

Surrey leaned forward in his chair as realization struck him. "Oh, good God."

"She experienced what I experienced. She saw me subjugated, humiliated, beaten, raped, spat upon, used; she was a witness to the killing of T'Cloo; experienced my pain and exhaustion, my nightmares and hallucinations… All of it. During that last meeting, when faced with the truth of what had happened to me on New Vulcan, I felt her rise up inside of me with all of her maternal outrage and fathomless grief. Upon that moment -" Spock's composure broke for a moment. His eyes went wet with tears and his lips trembled. Then he took in several deep breaths, blinked away the tears, and raised his chin, composed again. "Upon that moment, when I realized she was there, I wanted nothing more but to burn away all of the thoughts, and images, and feelings; to protect her from the hideousness of them, to purge them so she would not be subjected to them anymore, and so I set off the shariv t'kae myself. I consciously willed it to happen. It was my own doing." Spock looked at his folded hands and went silent. His face was emotionless, but the knuckles on his hands went white as he gripped them together.

"A suicide attempt?" Dr. Surrey asked. Any inference to attempted suicide on his Starfleet record would preclude Spock from ever being promoted to a captaincy; the Federation didn't allow anyone with a history of self-destructive ideation to captain any ship in the Fleet.

"No, Doctor. I was not attempting to destroy myself. My death would have resulted in the loss of my mother's katra. I wanted only to abolish the hideous images and memories."

Dr. Surrey cleared his throat and rubbed a finger under his nose to remove any errant mucus that might have hinted at his own emotionalism at that moment, and uttered, "I can't even begin to imagine what that must have been like for you, Mister Spock. But if you did set off your sahriv t'kae, as you stated, for the reasons you stated, then I don't believe there was anything premeditated or planned about it. I don't believe you were trying to kill yourself. It was a sudden reactive response to a perceived danger: you were a son protecting his mother... So, unless something else comes up to disprove my conclusion, I won't be listing what you did, in my reports, as a self-destructive act. I'll list it for what it was: a shariv t'kae suffered by a Vulcan under extremely traumatic circumstances."

A minor loosening in the shoulders and hands showed that Spock was relieved.

"But," Surrey continued, and Spock looked up, meeting his eyes, "considering you are now able to articulate your recognition of several dominant stressors impacting your life and mental processes, I believe we need to seriously discuss a detailed and aggressive plan for immediate and on-going therapy."

Spock nodded. "It may be somewhat difficult for me to participate in therapy when I have little independent recollection of the traumatic events to which I was subjected; however, I very much agree therapeutic intervention at this juncture is both warranted and necessary. I offer you my full cooperation, Doctor. How would you like to proceed?"


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(1) S'thaupi: the Vulcan word for the "beyond state" required for any healing meditation.

(2) Ashalik: The Vulcan word for "darling", as in "my darling wife/husband."

(3) This conversation, as translated from the Vulcan goes as follows: Sa'aat: Spahk-kam. Nam-tor t'gol'nev lau nash-veh hah? (Spock. May I be of assistance?) Spock: Dva-tor ni nash-veh hah, osu. Stariben k'ish-veh pa Uzh T'Kashi lau nash-veh hah? (I believe so, yes, honored one. May I speak with you about New Vulcan?) Sa'aat: U'istau ish-veh. (As you wish.)

(4) Ko-mehk: the Vulcan word for "Mother."

(5) A person who has not passed through the inferno of their passions has never overcome them. - Carl Gustav Jung

(6) Eku-svitan t'shaukaush: translated from the Vulcan this mean "locus of passion", the central point from which love, joy, hatred, and anger emanates, the focus of one's emotional attention.

(7) Tuareg Saddle: According to CamelPhotos(dot)com : "...Forked horn Tuareg Camel Saddles are made by lashing wood together with rawhide and covering it with colored leather, then adorning them with silver, copper and brass ornaments. Most were made in Agadez, Niger, by blacksmiths. Much Tuareg art is in the form of jewelry, leather and metal saddle decorations, and finely crafted swords."